Before Posey knew it, spring was sprinkled on the world and there were whispers that the war was ending. It was in the newspapers, it was in daily conversation, and it was in the skip people were getting in their step as they wandered past the window Posey gazed out of, her eyes on the world below like Juliet on her balcony.
She wasn't sure whether she believed it. After everything it didn't feel like the war could end, that it had any right to end after all it had done to her. How could the war just go and end and life go back to normal? Posey would have no normal ever again, not normal as she remembered it.
Wars didn't last forever but it had always felt like this one would.
When Hitler shot himself in the head Posey knew it was really true; the war that had stolen so much from her - her mother, her home, her innocence, her youth - was coming to an end. She wondered how many of the boys from Easy were still alive and where they were, whether they were in as many shattered pieces as she was herself.
Would they even recognise her if they saw her now? Now that she was wearing dresses and makeup and styling her hair like a woman - a woman with short hair, yes, but at least it had grown significantly since she'd had to have it in the regulation military crew cut - she thought she looked remarkably different to how she had when she'd been Duckie. She also thought she looked remarkably different to the person she'd been before joining the army, when she'd been Josephine. A different face for a different name, a different identity for a different purpose.
She imagined all of the things she'd do with her hair when it finally grew long again, properly long, like it had been before. Just now it was a little bit below her ears. She wanted to grow it out until it reached down her back.
She marvelled at the nerve she'd had when she'd decided to disguise herself as a boy. She couldn't imagine herself doing something like that now, being as brave as that now. Reckless but also fearless, that version of herself had taken her desperation and turned it into steely determination. How had she ever walked into the barracks at Camp Toccoa calling herself Joseph Wells and carved out a life for herself amongst a bunch of American men, firing bullets and following orders and going to war?
She sighed and fiddled at the skirt of her dress in her chair by the window. She'd lost all of her nerve by now. These days she didn't even dare to so much as leave the safety of the hotel room; she couldn't comprehend being the same person who'd made bait of herself so that Shifty could hit the German sniper who'd wounded Bill. Everything she'd done as a soldier seemed fascinating to her now and so, so long ago. She was that girl no longer. She wasn't sure whether she missed her. Maybe one day she would.
She missed a lot of other things in Duckie Wells' stead. She missed Bill, she missed Johnny, she missed Gene, she missed George. She missed being part of something bigger than herself, missed feeling accepted and secure. She missed that sense she'd had of who she was when she was with Easy, this certainty she'd found somewhere along the line of who she'd become and who she would continue to develop into with them by her side. She missed her rifle, she missed her ODs, she missed her helmet.
She missed Teddy.
How she missed that teddy bear. But she didn't regret leaving him with Bill for even a second; if she'd been carrying him when she'd left, when she'd been hit, he'd be in pieces by now. And, secretly, she liked to think that he'd brought Bill luck. She'd always insisted that Teddy was her good luck charm and at some point she'd started to believe it, though it had only been an excuse for his presence at first. She liked to imagine that, though Bill had lost his leg, perhaps having Teddy with him had saved him from something worse.
It was stupid to believe that, she knew, but it brought her comfort late at night when she missed her faithful companion. Maybe Teddy was with someone who needed him more than she did now, though really she wasn't sure that anyone could ever possibly need Teddy more than she did.
But he was in safe hands. There was no one she trusted more than Bill. She knew he was being well looked after and that both of them had each other now.
"Posey," John said as he entered the hotel room, slinging his jacket on the bed and rolling his shoulders until they clicked.
Posey startled and turned to look over her shoulder at him. "Yes?"
"I think," he began, and faltered. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling and simply breathed for a few moments before going on, "I think we should go to America."
Posey was up and out of her chair in an instant. "You do?" she asked, her eyes wide as she turned to face him. "Why? What changed your mind?"
"I went back to our old house," John said, visibly straining to keep his voice even. "I think we need a fresh start and I think it needs to be far away."
"What about George?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing. She didn't know why she was pressing him - this was good news, after all, and she definitely didn't want to change his mind - but she couldn't make sense of it in her head. After not speaking about anything related to the future since that initial conversation why had he suddenly changed his mind so much? He'd gone back to see their bombed out home for the first time, sure, but it didn't add up. He still had a crew he'd be leaving behind.
John paused and had to pry his eyes down from the ceiling to meet Posey's gaze. When he did, she found something akin to guilt swimming in the eyes so similar to hers, and something akin to shame. "I don't think I want to see George again," he confessed in a low voice, and tucked his arms behind his back to keep them from fiddling.
Posey shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing even tighter together. "I don't understand," she said, taking a step closer to him as though it would allow her to read him better. "You said he was your family -"
"A family from my past," John cut her off. "Like dad. Someone I loved and lost. If we're moving forward I can't -" He sighed and ran a restless hand through his hair. "I can't keep reliving what happened and I know I'll constantly be reminded of it when I see George or any of the others. And they'll want to talk about it and the old days and that's not a good idea."
Posey nodded slowly, mulling the words over in her head. "Okay," she said softly.
"I need to move on and I can't do that if I'm constantly trying to be the person I was before. I can't pretend that I'm the same and I don't want to. I want to start afresh."
Posey smiled, slowly at first and then in earnest. "So lets go to America," she said, grinning by now.
John smiled as well and nodded, laughing under his breath. "Lets go to America."
John left the room again after that, likely to walk around London, and Posey got to work finding some paper and a pen. She ended up having to use the notepad the hotel had left in the drawer of the desk but it would do. Her letter wouldn't arrive looking as grand as it might have under different circumstances but it would arrive all the same.
She dragged her chair over from the window and tucked it under the desk before putting pen to paper and beginning to write.
'Dear Mrs. Daniels,
'Receiving this letter must be somewhat like hearing from a ghost, and whilst it's true that Joseph Wells is tragically dead, Posey Wells is not.
'I'm so desperately sorry it's taken me so long to write but I needed time - for a lot of reasons, really, but to gather my thoughts more than anything else. Life has been a lot recently but I think I'm just now beginning to find my feet.
'I'd like to ask you a favour, if that's not too terribly audacious of me. I'd like to come and live with you again - my brother John and I both. The pair of us find ourselves a little bit lost in London and we've decided we'd quite like to try making a home out of Boston.
'Feel absolutely free to say no, but if you do say no I'd ask that you send a letter saying so in good time. The war is still on, of course, but as soon as it ends we'd like to come over. If we hear nothing we shall take it as a yes. I know that's a bit (a lot) cheeky of us but we're a bit desperate, you see.
'I hope you're doing well and I do miss you so dearly. Sorry, again, that it took me so long to write. I'm terrible at staying in touch, even with those who mean the most to me.
'Again, feel free to decline our request. You don't even have to have a reason, just send a piece of paper saying 'no', if you like, and we'll understand. But if you find that you might like the company then we'd be terribly, terribly grateful.
'Sending love and wishes that life is treating you well.
'Yours sincerely, dearly, faithfully, and lovingly,
'Posey Wells'